The Angel Hunter
by LightPhyre
Summary: Vegeta is part of a group of "hunters' that capture and torture Angels for their blood. So, when Bulma gets captured, all she can think about is breaking free from her endless torture... until she senses that her captor may be becoming hesitant about hurting her... Rated M for violence/torture and some suggestive stuff. Bulma/Vegeta romance fic, AU setting
1. A Call for Work

**Chapter One: A Call for Work**

The stench of sweat and urine hung in the air. Vegeta shifted under the warm and cozy covers of his bed-sheets, his ebony spikes pressing against the hard wooden bedframe. He was completely hopeless. Out of money and now out of a job, too. What was he going to do with his life? He was worse than hopeless. He was utterly _pathetic_.

He sighed, slumping into the mattress below him and pulling the single sheet up to his chin so that none of the sweet warmth could escape him. He removed his sticky hands from his pants and sighed. It was the small pleasures in life that kept him going sometimes.

His apartment was a mess. It was even more miserable than he was. Mud was splashed over the already-stained carpets from his unwashed hiking boots and there was a thin layer of potato chips on the single two-foot high coffee table. It was the only one in the entire apartment.

The room was basically a middle-sized space that served as a kitchen, living room and bedroom all in one. There was a small closet-like area that held a toilet and two-foot high sink that always overflowed. Plus, the toilet didn't flush, giving the room a perfectly good reason to stink like urine. And there was no door separating the bathroom from the rest of the living quarters. The bathroom was more like a closet than a bathroom anyway. It didn't matter. Vegeta couldn't afford plumbing. He couldn't even afford dinner for a week. He was out of money. He hadn't been hired for a job in what seemed like an eternity. He needed to get out of his slump sooner or later, or he was going to rot like the walls behind his refrigerator.

Vegeta rolled over to face his clock. It was blank. Right. He didn't pay the electric bill last month. How could he forget? He had to use the remainder of his money to pay for much-needed food.

And then a piercing sound erupted through Vegeta's ears. He loudly groaned and pulled the sheets higher up so that they covered his entire head. How did he get like this? He was the best of the best. He was widely known for the things he could accomplish. Why was he living in such a filthy place? This was repulsive for someone of his talents. He guessed it could be because of his high prices for work. When it came to the business he did, he expected to be rewarded handsomely for his efforts. Not many people could do what he did. And no one could do it as quickly and efficiently as he could. High prices were a small price to pay for his type of work.

There was the piercing noise again. Vegeta moaned and sat up, the sheets falling off his bare chest and exposing him to the cool breeze coming in through his shattered window. It had only come with a screen because the glass had come broken, and the room's previous guest had looked to have tried to rip the entire window out of the wall. The torn paint proved as much.

Realizing that it was his cell phone ringing, his ears perked up. Could it really be? No one ever called his cell phone unless it was for an assignment! He only paid the damn thing every month for the sole purpose of hoping that someone would call him for work.

Vegeta jumped out of bed and raced to a pile of papers and potato chips scattered over the ground beneath the coffee table. He dropped to his knees and, as another ring came, he pushed the papers and other obstacles aside until he had dug his way to his gray phone.

He instantly opened it and put it to his ear without checking the ID of his caller. It didn't matter. At this point, he would work for whoever asked him to.

"Hello?" he asked expectantly, sitting back and feeling a potato chip crunch under his muscled weight.

"Hello. Yes, uhm… Is this Vegeta Ouji?" It was the voice of an older man. Vegeta pictured him with a head of white hair and sagging skin on his arms and face. He could almost visualize the old man's bags under his eyes and the extra pair of chins attached to his neck and face.

"It is." Vegeta couldn't wait. This was definitely a call for work. No longer would he be staying in this dump. He was going to get himself out of here! He was going to use his reward for this assignment to buy himself a house. A real house. Nothing like this run-down shit-hole that he was currently forced to live in. He was going to treat himself like fucking _royalty_ when this was over with.

"Yes, uhm… We have a job for you. Your sponsor is a man named Frieza and he hears that you are in a class of your own in this line of work. Is that correct?" The man seemed uncertain of Vegeta's abilities as he spoke. It seemed as if he didn't believe such things. As if it was nonsense to him. Vegeta could only picture what he would have done to the man had he been standing face-to-face with him. He'd show him just how capable he really was.

"I am. But what's that to you? What is this job? And why is this Frieza guy not calling me himself? Why do I have to speak with a low-life such as yourself?"

"Master Frieza is much too busy to be making phone calls at this time of day. He has many things to do and very little time before he begins his plan."

"And what is this plan of his?"

"I am not at liberty to disclose that information, Mr. Ouji. But if you'd just answer my question, then we could get on with more important matters."

"Yes, I'm ready and willing to work for this man, Frieza. But I'll have you know that I'm an expensive man to cover in such situations as these. I expect to be rewarded generously for my work."

"Money isn't an issue, Mr. Ouji. Master Frieza is one of the richest men on the planet, if not the _single_ richest. I'm sure he'll give you whatever amount it is that you require to do this job and more for your invaluable services to his cause. Your sponsor is willing to pay any amount you demand. He's bringing a team of only the _best_ together and he wants you to be part of it at any cost. This I can guarantee myself."

"I like the man already. What's the assignment and when do I start?"

"You are to meet with the rest of the team at a specific location. It's a base in a forest that Frieza believes is home to many of the species that you hunt. In fact, he believes that it is home to the majority of the population. This is why he's taking action immediately. You will meet at the base by this afternoon. I'm guessing you already know where it will be, seeing as you're so good at this?" The man's tone was mocking, but now it was Vegeta's turn to mock.

"In fact I know exactly which forest you're speaking of. I've known about the Angels' whereabouts for a while now. And I'm sure that there is other information that I have that will be of value to this _Frieza_ man. Although, my facts on this will cost _extra_. I don't share my knowledge for free, you know."

The man was speechless. Vegeta chuckled into the phone. He knew he had won this indirect argument by a landslide. He stood, keeping the phone to his ear as he continued.

"And what's the assignment?" Vegeta pressed. He wasn't enjoying the evasive answers he had been receiving. It seemed too deceptive for his liking. Something about this assignment wasn't going to be like anything he had ever done, he deduced from the man's secretiveness. No one ever kept things from him when he was on an assignment. His sponsors always wanted him to know everything so that he wouldn't fail. When someone hired him, they knew the cost, and they always wanted to job done right in as little time as humanly possible.

"Master Frieza wishes for that information to be disclosed at the rendezvous point in the forest. He specifically told me not to reveal specific pieces of information over a phone line. A presentation will be given at the base to answer any questions you may have. Can you handle that, Mr. Ouji?" That last part sounded like another attempt at mockery to Vegeta, but he ignored it. If this Frieza clown was willing to pay any price, Vegeta just might bankrupt him. He wasn't going to be treated like a prince. He was going to treat himself to a _king's_ way of life when this was done and over with. He would never need to work another day in his entire life… The only problem was that he had to complete the job _first_. That was the way these jobs always worked. He didn't mind though. If anyone could do it, he could. And if he couldn't do it, then no one else in the world could. It was either him or no one. Simple as that.

Feeling pleased with himself, Vegeta asked another question. "When can we talk about my pay?" He walked over to a pile of clothes on top of the counter in the kitchen section of the small apartment. He grabbed a blue spandex shirt off the top of the pile and threw it on, still holding the phone to his ear with one shoulder as he pulled it down over his muscled stomach. He took a moment to admire his own flawless features.

"Your sponsor said it can be anything you wish. Name your price now and I will give him the message that you have agreed. Or you can think about it and give your price at the base."

"If I tell you now, then what am I agreeing to?" he asked suspiciously. "You said you can't tell me what the assignment is over this phone line."

"That is the point, Mr. Ouji. Master Frieza wishes everyone's full cooperation in this, including you. That means that you name your price and agree to the assignment with a legal contract. Then you get the job's information. You must complete it to get your pay, and that keeps you from backing out of it."

Vegeta mentally snorted. No one could keep him from anything. But he wasn't going to tell that to the old man. Some things were better left unsaid when it came to work.

"Oh, and another thing. Master Frieza wishes for you to lead this assignment, seeing as he feels that you are the best of all his recruits."

Vegeta smirked. "It sounds like this is going to fun."

"We'll see you at the base in one hour, then?" the old man asked and Vegeta nodded to himself.

"One hour it is."

The man hung up the line and Vegeta set his phone down on the counter, avoiding placing it in a puddle of tap water that was still there from a couple days ago.

He walked to his bed in the back right corner of the room and got down on one knee. Holding himself up with one arm on the bed, he leaned his head down to look under it. When he found the large metal box, he gripped the handle and hauled it out from under the bed.

He sat down on the ground and placed the metal box on his lap. Filling in the correct six-number combination, the lock popped open and he lifted the lid to reveal what was inside. Vegeta smiled. He hadn't opened this box in a while. The last time he closed it had been when he had finished his last assignment.

He wondered if he should bring only what he believed he would need, or if he should just bring the whole box of supplies with him when he left. Deciding that once he was gone, he never wanted to see this place again, he settled on bringing the entire box. He grabbed a plastic shopping bag that had been lying next to him and flapped it open. He stood and grabbed his pile of blue spandex clothing off the counter and shoved them into the bag. He was never coming back to this dump, so he was going to bring everything with him, not just the large metal box.

He then grabbed the only unopened bag of chips he owned and shoved them in the plastic bag as well, on top of his clothes. There really wasn't anything else that he owned that he cared about enough to bring with him. The chips had been a stretch. The only thing he really cared about was the metal box. And more importantly, the things inside of it.

Trying to brush his fingers through his hair, he grunted. There were too many knots to even get a couple inches through. Vegeta dislodged his fingers from the tangled mess and grabbed his phone, pocketing it before kicking open the door. It didn't have a door knob or even a lock, so kicking it easily did the job.

He walked back over to the box and closed the cover, locking it and resetting the combination. He lifted it off the ground by the handle and looked at the underside. A thick white piece of tape was slowly peeling off from the corners. In his own messy handwriting it read: Hunting Equipment.

He gripped one of the already peeling corners of the tape and ripped it off. It left sticky residue behind on the metal, but he didn't care enough to pay it any heed. He grabbed the plastic bag of clothes and chips and exited the room by the open door.


	2. Vegeta's Assignment

**Chapter Two: Vegeta's Assignment**

He was late. It didn't seem like a problem before, but the base was a little harder to find than he originally thought it would be. That was predictable, though. It was hidden so that no one could just stumble upon it and walk inside. You had to be looking for it and already know that it would be here in order to find it.

Vegeta paused, coming to the front walls of the base. They were almost as tall as the trees. His sponsor must have put a lot of time and effort into putting this thing together. It looked serious. He couldn't wait to find out his assignment. It must be something big if this much work was going into it.

Adjusting the plastic shopping bag over his shoulder, he continued to walk until he reached a large wooden gate around the left side that allowed one through the ridiculously tall metal walls that bordered the base. Whatever wasn't welcome inside certainly had no hope of getting there. That was for sure.

He was greeted by two unfriendly-looking guards that were manning the entrance gate. They looked at his plastic bags first. Then his metal box. Then they glanced at his face. Vegeta stood ahead of them, not speaking a word and waiting for them to let him through. He was a Hunter and his services weren't even worth these men's lives. Their combined worth wouldn't even come to half of the pay he was expecting for this assignment.

When they moved out of the way, revealing the entrance through the open gate, Vegeta sighed. It wouldn't have been fun to kill them anyway. It would have been a waste of his irreplaceable time and valuable effort. And he didn't want to have to use his equipment for anything other than hunting.

The idea of working as a team with other Hunters wasn't on his list of favorite things about this new mission. He hated showing people his equipment. They were of his own design, specifically made to suit his needs and accomplish every task he willed the instruments to do. If other Hunters saw and were able to analyze his equipment, they would steal his ideas for themselves.

No matter. They still wouldn't be able to match his abilities in using his instruments. It was the wielder of the equipment that caused fear and created danger for the hunted. Not the weapons themselves. He was the danger. His prey feared his weapons, yes. But they feared him more. And that was the way it had to be… whether he liked it or not. And he was going to be around other Hunters who probably felt like they were better than him. And they were going to be watching him, as their leader. They wouldn't hesitate for a second to inform Frieza of any weaknesses he might show.

He wasn't weak though, so all he had to worry about were lies and deceit from the jealous ones. And there were always some who were jealous. Vegeta mentally shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it other than taking it as an extra boost to his already inflated ego.

"Please sign this," one of the guards said and Vegeta looked down at the clipboard he was handed. On it was a stack of five, maybe six sheets of paper. At the bottom of the last sheet was an X and a line for his signature to be placed on. He was then handed a pen and he realized that this must be the contract that he had been informed about over the phone. He signed his name without reading the details of the contract. It didn't matter to him. He wasn't _not_ going to sign it, so why bother reading what it entailed?

He handed the clipboard back to the guard as the two of them moved farther out of the way, allowing him full entrance. Vegeta mockingly pocketed the pen and made his way inside the metal walls, heading for the building.

As he entered the complex, he noticed that there were no guards on the inside. It looked as if the only precautions had been taken on the outer perimeter of the base. After all, Angel Hunters were their own guards. They needed no one's protection but their own.

When Vegeta came to a halt in front of the main doors, he was surprised to find that they opened on their own. Behind them stood a short slimy-looking man. He was the perfect depiction of a lizard, Vegeta thought.

"Hello, Vegeta Ouji," the man said, and Vegeta immediately knew that this was none other than Frieza. Vegeta bowed ever so slightly, the only thoughts on his mind being that this was the man who was going to give him his generous reward when he was finished with this assignment, whatever it may be. "I'm so glad that you could come. We were beginning to think that you weren't coming at all."

"Of course I was coming, Frieza," he said politely, showing that he knew exactly who the man was without him having to give his name. It only seemed right, seeing as his sponsor knew who he was as soon as he laid his blood-red eyes on him. As for the polite part of it… He was still thinking about the money he would be getting when this was done and over with.

"Have you thought of a price for your invaluable services?" Vegeta was asked. He nodded and pulled an envelope from his pocket, handing it to the lizard-like man. Vegeta watched as his ruby red eyes glanced over it without opening it. He then put it in his pocket and looked back up at Vegeta.

"It doesn't matter what you desire. You may have whatever it is." He smiled, but Vegeta noticed the mischievous look hidden beneath his harmless expression. It was his job to notice the smaller things, after all. But Frieza should have known that… Vegeta smiled politely in return. "Now if you'll please step this way so that my men can explain the assignment to everyone…" He swooshed a hand to motion for Vegeta to follow the hallway.

He did as directed until coming to the last door on the far wall. He kept a sharp eye out. He didn't appreciate his sponsor behind him, where he couldn't see his movements. Limited vision was one of many human qualities that Vegeta hated. It would have been useful in countless situations if the saying, "eyes in the back of your head" could be true. If Vegeta could have anything in the world, it would be 360˚ vision. It would become especially useful in Hunting. Angels were known to be fast. And didn't he know it.

"This door, right here," Frieza said, and then began walking away. Vegeta supposed that Frieza didn't want to waste his time listening to things he already knew. Things he had devised by himself.

Vegeta watched as his sponsor rounded a corner and entered a doorway, shutting the door with a particularly loud slam. Vegeta had the funny feeling that he was welcome here strictly for business purposes, and if he had no skills, he wouldn't be welcomed here at all.

He turned with a mental note to watch his back at all times, and then opened the double doors in front of him.

What he found wasn't at all what he had expected. A small room, looking as if its purpose was to teach a small elementary school class, was packed with men, guards by the look of them, standing along the walls with their arms crossed and legs spread. People who looked to be other Hunters were seated at small tables. There didn't look to be all too many of them. Five to ten, if he had to guess from his fleeting glance. The other people in the room were at the front, facing towards the tables, as if ready to give a speech. There were three of them, two behind the first. They didn't look to be guards.

Instinctively, Vegeta noticed the single, average-sized window in the back of the room. The glass was thick and there were no curtains or draperies to cover it. It was fogged glass, not meant for a view outside, its only function being that of bringing light into the room. He took another glance towards the ceiling. There were no lights. He walked forward, scanning the room entirely. The walls were made of metal, but he guessed that on the outside, they were made of wood. He knew the look of a working room when he saw one. The final giveaway was a stain on the floor as he passed over it, coming to a halt at an open seat next to a man with pure white hair. The stain was obviously blood.

This was a torture room.

The stench that usually hung in these types of areas was absent. From prior knowledge, he knew that the window didn't open, so the reason for the absence of any noticeable smell was a lack of usage for a long period of time. This base had looked new from the outside, but it certainly wasn't. Now it occurred to Vegeta that Frieza had only refinished the place to make it look better. But it had definitely seen its share of Hunters and Angels alike. Although it seemed like that had been a long time ago.

"Now that everyone is finally _here_ ," a voice from the front called stressing the last word to gain everyone's attention. Vegeta was pulled out of his private thoughts and looked up at the three men in the front of the room. He felt like a school boy, going through high school without a care in the world. He swung his leg over the white bench and sat down.

It appeared that the man in the middle had spoken. He was looking directly at Vegeta, proving that his stressed word had been directed at him and only him. Apparently, everyone else was glancing his way as well. It looked like he had been expected and his lateness wasn't appreciated.

"Yes, well here I am," he said, folding his arms behind his head to stretch mockingly as he spoke. "You may speak now." His mocking tone was purposeful, and a few of the guards immediately took a liking to him. But a few took an immediate _dis_ liking to him as well. The three men in the front of the room were among those few.

Pulling his glance away from Vegeta to scan the room, the man in the middle held his tongue and spoke to the Hunters. "As you are all well aware, your assignments haven't yet been revealed to you—"

"Get to the point and stop messing around!" Vegeta called, gaining everyone's attention once again. He hated it when a person neglected to give the proper information, and instead talked to waste time. "We don't need a fucking show! Just tell me what it is I'm doing so that I can do it without having to look at you all day! This isn't a political meeting. It's not required of you to talk me to death before telling me my assignment. So just do it so that I can get it over with and get paid!"

A few of the other Hunters nodded their agreement while others looked at him critically.

"As I'm sure you all know by now," the second man, on the right, said, stepping forward as he spoke, "the man who was late is Vegeta Ouji. This is the man designated to lead this assignment. This is the man that you will all have to take orders from." It sounded as if the man wanted the other Hunters to begin to object, but none did. In fact, they looked pleased to have a leader who didn't beat around the bush.

"Quit with the fucking bullshit, will you?" he snarled to the second man. His gaze turned to the third man, on the left. "And if you have anything to add, then don't, because my patience is wearing thin. You don't want to find out what happens when it snaps entirely. Understand?" He voice was full of heat and the pride was unmistakable. "Spit it out already! Or I'm leaving and you'll have to be the one to tell Frieza why I'm no longer part of this mission!" He pointed a finger at the middle man, whose face paled at the threat. Apparently, Frieza wasn't a man who was denied what he wanted. It was a good thing to remember that his henchmen feared bringing him bad news. He mentally wrote it down and stored it for later use.

"Very well, Mr. Ouji," the first man said, trying to sound as if he didn't do anything unless he decided to all on his own. It was obvious that this wasn't the case, so Vegeta crossed his arms and sat back. He had won this war without even trying. He smirked smugly to himself.

"The assignment that Master Frieza has given all you Hunters is simple. This forest is the home to many of the species that you hunt and capture. Master Frieza believes that this is where most of them have been hiding all this time. Your mission is to capture every Angel that you find, heighten and extract as much of its blood as you possibly can, and then dispose of the creature when the blood's potency has run dry."

Vegeta froze, uncrossing his arms at the mission's surprising turn. This was nothing like any of the work he done in the past. This was big. This was more than a simple mission. This was the hunting down and capturing of almost the _entire species_. He began to feel like he should have written a higher number inside the envelope he had handed Frieza. This was going to take work, and a lot of it. It was also going to take some time. Months if not years, depending on how well the Angels have managed to hide. And here he thought that this was only going to take a couple weeks or less. He guessed he should have known better.

A few of the Hunters around him glanced his way, to judge his reaction to the middle man's claim. He made sure his expression was blank before re-crossing his arms and staring up at the middle man again, awaiting any remaining information.

"The reason for this assignment is for all of you, the best Angel Hunters in the world, to track down and attempt to eliminate the majority of the species that you hunt. Of course, we all know that this may not be possible, since we don't know how many there are. But Master Frieza is sure that you will all work to the best of your ability. This is a wonderful mission for you all because you are being paid what you wish whether you complete the task or fail. Master Frieza wants you to make sure that most of the ones hiding in this forest are extinct by the time you leave this base for good. The second reason, which is also extremely important to Master Frieza, is that you get as much blood from them as possible. His goal is to create a sort of monopoly for the product so the Hunters can no longer be used as much as they are now for their services and he can sell the blood for whatever price he sees fit. As I'm sure you're well aware, this shouldn't concern you because of the rewards you have asked for. You will have no further need for your work after you receive your rewards. You will be provided with all the money you will need for the rest of your lives when this is finished with. Any questions?"

All three men looked around the room. Their eyes were almost always redirected at Vegeta after circling around the room. It was clear that they felt superior when he had nothing to say.

Vegeta also didn't fail to hear that all the Hunters in the room had been ordered to heighten as well as extract the blood from the Angels that they found. And to heighten the potency of an Angel's blood, torture was usually required, seeing as the species in general were relatively peaceful in nature.

"Good," the second man said, stepping forward like the last time he addressed his audience. "We will stop by every now and again, but for most of the time you are here, no one will be around to bother you. Master Frieza, as well as the three of us and the guards you see around the room will be going back to the city to work on the plans for after your work here is finished. So we won't be coming by very often. When you are finished with your task, you may wait here for someone to arrive. Once Master Frieza knows that you are finished, you may come collect your rewards and be on your merry way. Is that acceptable?"

The Hunters in the room nodded slowly. Vegeta realized that they weren't the responding type of crowd. He might have to change that if he was going to be in charge for this mission. He smirked at all the ways he could force them to participate.

This was going to be fun.


	3. Incompetence

**Chapter Three: Incompetence**

Vegeta paced in his new living quarters, along an imaginary line he created on the paneled floor. Back and forth, back and forth. His thoughts swirled around in his head.

Finally coming to a halt, he turned to his bed. It didn't look all that comfortable, but at least it was better than the sleeping area in his previous apartment. There was a small wooden dresser that he didn't bother using. He had placed his spandex outfits on the top of the dresser, still wrapped in the plastic shopping bag. The dresser was damp, and it made him wonder if it had ever been dry. If anything though, it felt like home.

Next to the closed door that was the entrance and exit to the room was his metal suitcase. He bent down and lifted it off the wooden floor by the sturdy handle. He placed it on the mattress and moved the six numbers to match the correct combination. The lock clicked and the suitcase popped open.

Vegeta knew exactly what he wanted. He grabbed the small blue book from inside the box and closed it. Not wanting to put in the combination again, he left it unlocked and set it on the floor beside the bed. He then laid back and propped one leg up on his other leg's knee. He put one hand behind his head and flipped open the blue book with the other, holding it delicately in front of his face to read.

It was written in his own handwriting, of course. He had made the book himself. No one in the world knew it existed but him, its secretive author. It was a simple manual that made him who he was: the best. If any Hunter ever got their hands on this single book, Vegeta might lose his invaluable reputation and title. That wasn't something he was prepared to deal with. Now or ever.

But presently, it was just something for him to read.

Inside the first few pages were notes about his first Hunter assignments. He had written down the behaviors of the Angels that he had managed to capture. He remembered how excited he had been when his career took off on his very first assignment.

Naturally, and as expected, the Angels had been innocent and naïve. It was one of their natural characteristics. This also made it easier to complete his assignments. They were usually trustworthy of their captors, which many Angel Hunters didn't care about. They felt the fact was pointless, but not Vegeta. Having the trust of the one you plan to make money off of wasn't always insignificant in his eyes. It had been his first moment of triumph above the other Hunters. Reading this book was like remembering his life story, and all the hard work he had gone through just to get where he was now. To him, it was finally worth it.

The next few pages were just things that he had written down about each individual Angel that he captured. It had seemed important at the time to keep a log. It was there because, at that time, he had a nearly empty handbook and wanted to fill it in. Most of his previous assignments just prepared him and gave him more experience in the field. But now he used it as a traditional practice. If something went wrong, or right, he could just go over what had happened during the Angel's time in captivity to find any answers he might need. He skipped over that long and descriptive section and found the part he had been looking for with an arrogant smirk.

This was what made him the best of the best. These were the steps that were needed to complete every assignment, Vegeta-style. This five-step plan was what gave him his reputation. He had never told anyone before about this process, and for good reason. He looked over the first step. It read, "1. Take control" at the top of the page. Below and for the next couple pages were his own notes and explanation of the step.

It was simple. To take control was like showing the Angel that had been captured who was the boss. This step rarely took more than a few moments. Angels hated pain and shied away from it. All he ever had to do was beat them around a bit and they understood that he wasn't one to be messed with.

Step one's purpose was basic. It was to establish the Angel's place. It was to let them know that they weren't captured to be taken care of until their parents or relatives came to pick them up and bring them home. The idea was to let them know that they weren't going anywhere and that they were going to be punished for any unwanted behavior, should they decide to try anything they believed was clever enough to get them a chance at escaping. It had never happened with Vegeta. And the punishments for such behavior were always determined by the Angel's primary Hunter and capturer.

Feeling like he already knew his own plan, he set the book down on his stomach. Vegeta let his eyes wander over the white ceiling above him.

This assignment was going to take some time out of his life. Exterminating the entire species in the forest… It wasn't something to take lightly in any respect. He wasn't planning on failing, even if he did get his pay either way. He had a reputation to protect. He couldn't just give up. His slack would become his own demise.

Feeling a little lonely, he stood and placed the blue book back inside the suitcase, locking it as he closed the top over his equipment. He then made his way to the door, locking it as well. He pulled off his clothes and went back to the bed, throwing them on the floor as he laid down.

Wetting his hands with a handful of spit, he prepared to treat himself before he got to work.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

"What do you mean, you found _nothing_?!" Vegeta bellowed, balling his fists at his side as the air rung with a rage of profanity.

Burter and Jiece had just come back from an assignment that Vegeta had given them. Unfortunately, like every other person he sent out for the past week, they had found no luck.

"You're _Angel_ Hunters! Why can't you find one fucking Angel?! It's your fucking _job_!"

Burter's face turned bright red and Jiece's turned redder than it already was, if that was even possible. They drooped their heads in shame. Vegeta was right, but there was something else.

"It's this forest, sir," Jiece said, his Australian accent clear as he spoke. "There's something about it. I could have sworn that I passed the same area three or four times. Burter noticed it as well, right Burter?" He turned to his companion for desperate support as Vegeta's glare burnt holes through his face.

"Right, Jiece," Burter added, not daring to look Vegeta in the face to give him his answer. "We passed the same tree with some moss on it four times. And we weren't going in circles, either."

"You _idiots_! You call yourselves Hunters?! The Angels have _magic!_ They use it because it is one of their only defenses against us! Find a way around it or get the fuck _out_ of here!" Vegeta's face was red as well. The remaining Hunters watched from afar. It had been almost a week since they had gotten here and not one of them had even caught sight of an Angel. They had all been given the same reprimanding from their leader during the previous days when they, too, failed. Although, Vegeta hadn't once gone out on his own. It was starting to make him look bad.

"Sir, if I may speak," Zarbon said, stepping forward from the on-looking crowd. Vegeta whirled on him, but Zarbon didn't even flinch.

"What do _you_ want?!"

"Sir, I believe you're being a bit harsh on these two. Yes, the Angels are obviously here and seem to be using some form of magic to protect themselves from us. But you haven't even left this base since the first day you got here. Maybe, if you were to hunt with some of us… you could show us how it's done."

Vegeta continued to glare, but loosened his expression. The man's comment was obviously a challenge to his authority. The green man had balls, he'd give him that much.

"I'm not hunting with any of you weaklings. I'm going out immediately, by myself, and when I come back with an Angel, you all better be prepared to do some work." They all reluctantly nodded as he turned to Zarbon. It showed that they didn't think it wise to challenge their boss to any type of test. Good. He liked that.

"Especially you," he added, glaring daggers at Zarbon. It was an obvious threat. These were men who needed constant reminders of who was in charge. One slip-up, one tiny mistake, and his leadership status would mean nothing to them. Frieza placing him as the leader of the operation was a choice. These Hunters could also choose not to listen to his orders because there was nothing he could do about it if they felt he had no power over them. Complaining to Frieza wouldn't be appropriate at all. But thankfully, he knew what to do to keep them in line.

"Sir," another man said, raising his hand like a child. "You haven't sent me out yet. Do you mind if I go hunting first?" The man that had spoken was Ginyu. Vegeta didn't like him for the sole reason that he thought of himself as a sort of second-in-command at the base. There was no one else in charge but him, and he didn't want the other Hunters thinking that they could tell Ginyu information instead of him just because they feared the outcome if he didn't like the information they offered him. They would all learn to grow some balls, one way or another.

"Whatever. You have the rest of the day," he responded with a frown. Ginyu was dancing on his nerves.

And Vegeta would _not_ have anyone questioning his ability in front of the other Hunters. If anyone dared, they were going to get _burned_.


	4. A Date

**Chapter Four: A Date**

Bulma Briefs sat in her plush armchair, staring aimlessly out her tarnished window. Her apartment complex was large and had five rooms. There were two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a dining room, which also served as the living room. The view out of the tarnished window was gorgeous. Bulma lived at the top of a hill in Lillanthia, so she could see the entire City of Angels with just one glance. She could see the market down by the square, and she could see all the people and children, walking around the thin roads of their city.

Lillanthia held the largest population of Angels in the world. Bulma was very lucky to live in such a safe and protected place. Many Angels who didn't live in such an environment were caught by the Hunters, and everyone knew what happened when an Angel was captured. No one liked to talk about it, but everyone knew. And Bulma knew more than most Angels. Her parents had been captured and killed by a group of Angel Hunters when she was young. She didn't remember them very well because of how young she had been, but she figured that it was better that way.

Bulma Briefs was only nineteen years old, which was extremely young, seeing as Angels are immortal creatures. When an Angel reaches the age of twenty, they grow their wings, and the Angel could possibly gain a magic ability. But it was rare, and even if an Angel did receive such a gift, it was usually very limited. When she was young, Bulma and the other young female Angels would joke about getting an ability to help them find a man who would care for them and defeat their husbands-to-be in a fight for their women.

Most of the female Angels were given a designated partner when they were born, and it was decided by the Angel's parents and the male counterpart's family. Bulma had been chosen to marry Yamcha, and it was something she absolutely dreaded. Yamcha had been her friend since she could remember, and when they got the news that they were to be married, he began acting differently around her. She remembered when they used to roll a ball back and forth along the carpet, their parents watching them play, and she thought that it was probably just to get them acquainted so they wouldn't have to marry a stranger. But Yamcha acted as if she was his property, and she didn't appreciate it at all. Plus, Yamcha was a coward. Everyone in Lillanthia knew that he shook in his boots at competition and difficulties. She guessed that he was confident around her because there was no competition. Her parents were dead, so there was no one who could change her marriage plans but Yamcha's parents, and she knew that wasn't going to happen.

Chichi, Bulma's best friend, was one of the lucky ones. It wasn't just her flawless features, or her glossy black hair. And it wasn't even the fact that her parents bought her the best and most fashionable clothes in the city. It was her designated partner, Goku. Goku was the complete opposite of Yamcha. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and it was an insult not to think so. He was also known as a hero, someone who would put their life on the line for the people who he cared about. He once saved two young Angels from a house fire. He was every girl's dream man, but he was all for Chichi. And Bulma hated to admit it, but she was jealous of what her best friend had. She could tell that Goku and Chichi were in love with each other. Their marriage wasn't set for another few months, but Bulma's was approaching fast. She already had her silky white gown laid out on her bed. She was going to be wedded to her childhood friend the very next day. The thought made her shiver uncontrollably.

Bulma leaned back in her armchair. There was nothing she could do. She didn't know why she thought about it so much. All it did was make her feel even worse about her situation. She and Yamcha had never even kissed each other before. She didn't even know what to do if the ever did anything more than that.

The thought of running away had crossed her mind quite a few times, but that wouldn't get her anywhere. She knew that she would only be digging her own grave if she left Lillanthia. It was either a life here, with Yamcha, for eternity, or it was out on her own, fighting for her survival and running from the Hunters.

The Angel Hunters were everywhere. Stories were told to young Angels about how if you were found, there was no hope for escape. Stories were told about how the human race found out about the Angels and created the Hunters, a special breed of killers, made for the sole purpose of tracking down and capturing Angels. They were the worst type of humans on the planet. The job of a Hunter was reserved for the most cruel and heartless of the species. Bulma thought of her parents, learning firsthand how cruel the Hunters could be.

There was one elder in the city, and his name was Piccolo, who was the only Angel known to have escaped from the Hunters. He was prone to sharing his tales of how the Hunters tortured him and stuck needles into his skin. Parents usually tried to avoid him when their children were around. They didn't want the young Angels to hear such things. The stories of monsters scared them enough. They didn't need to hear Piccolo's tales of terror and pain.

As for children, all married couples were expected to have one child or none at all. One was clearly preferred, but no more. Of course, there were exceptions, and the second-born child was never harmed, but the couple who bared the extra Angel was usually looked down upon. This single child regulation was put in place from as far back as Bulma could remember. It was created when the Angel Hunters were born out of the humans' desire for power. Since Angels become immortal after only a short amount of time of their lives, it became difficult for them to hide. Angel children wouldn't replace their parents' existence in the world, such as the human species does, but instead only add to the population to reproduce once more. But when the Hunters arrived and began taking some of the Angels away, their numbers decreased for the first time in their existence in the world. They rarely had deaths, and they were in cases such as murders, and the occasional suicide, when the Angels lived among humans before the Hunters, but they were scarce and irrelevant to the overall population count.

When the Hunters began capturing Angels, killing them, the eldest members of the city decided to go into hiding, which was how Lillanthia was formed. Many soon followed suit, seeing as it was the safest and most probable way to survive. But there were so many Angels back then, hundreds of years ago, and it was easier to be caught under such circumstances. Their numbers were cut in half, and then cut into fourths, until there were so few of them, that now, the one child that every couple has, truly does replace their parents' existences. Deaths are many during this time in the world. And that was something no Angel had never ceased to forget.

Lillanthia wasn't a big city, really. It housed about two hundred and fifty Angels. Maybe a hundred and fifty more lived outside of Lillanthia, scattered all around the world, still waiting for the day when they would no longer have to hide. It was saddening to Bulma that there were so few of them left in the world.

It was all the fault of the Angel Hunters. There was no other reason that Bulma and her species should have to go into hiding and fear being caught all their lives. It just wasn't fair.

One reason for the sick game that the Hunters developed was because of biblical teachings in the time period. Many men who committed great sins held the belief that bedding an Angel against their will could resolve them of their sins. Another belief was that, if you could have an Angel bed you willingly, you could pass through purgatory and be accepted into Heaven by God himself, his arms spread wide for your arrival. And just because the species were known as Angels, that didn't mean that they come from God. In fact, no one even knew if there was a God. But that was one of the horrible reasons that the Angel Hunters were still alive and well. But many Hunters had their own reasons for hunting Angels, and the special blood that the humans injected into their veins wasn't always the primary treasure. So torture wasn't the only thing a captured Angel had to worry about. Games and twisted competitions were sometimes the only things those horrible Hunters had on their minds.

The blood of an Angel, when combined with a human's blood in a human's body created a kind of augment. And when the human's learned that they could either create or become this enhanced being, the Angels Hunters were created to hunt down and extract the blood from any Angel that they could find. After a few years, they became more proficient at their job. Certain rules were put in place, such as the amount of blood that could be drained at one time, so the Angel wouldn't be killed right away, and more blood could be extracted later on. The Hunters experimented so much that they learned that, eventually, an Angel's blood loses its potency, and when combined with human blood, no longer produced the desired effects. Piccolo discovered that this was when the Angel was murdered. The torture took place while the Angel was in captivity, and it was mostly for the entertainment and pleasure of the Hunter who had captured the poor creature.

Now that the population was so small, there were fewer deaths, but they weren't rare. Bulma heard that it was a realistic fear that was spreading that the Angels would soon become extinct. She didn't doubt that she was already a member of an endangered species, what with the majority of the population living in Lillanthia.

The only thing keeping them truly safe was the Outer Wall that lined Lillanthia. The elders had gathered their rare magic and created a barrier that blocked the city from view from the outside. Magic was the only defense that the Angels had against their predators, and it rarely was enough. But in this case, Lillanthia was a black hole to anyone on the outside. It would make any Hunters feel like they were walking in circles. The only disadvantage was that any Angel would accidentally stepped outside the Outer Wall would have to find their way back inside without being able to see where they were going. It had never happened before, because no Angel dared get near the Outer Wall, but the warning was known to everyone who lived in the city.

A sudden knock at the door made Bulma jump up from her plush armchair. She turned her head to look at the door and roll her eyes at whoever had decided to bother her. It could be practically anyone, seeing as her wedding was tomorrow, and everyone was invited, as was the situation with every wedding.

She stood and walked over to the door. She grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and pulled open the thin, wooden door to find none other than Yamcha, standing in front of her with a large smile on his face. He raised his eyebrows at her and lifted his hands. Bulma noticed that he was holding a bouquet of red roses, her favorite, and jumped at the realization that she was being rude to the man she would have to spend the rest of her immortal life with.

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, forcing a smile and taking the bouquet from him. "It's so wonderful to see you, Yamcha. Is there anything I can do for you?" She hated faking for his benefit, but what would be the use of telling him how much she despised having to marry him? She could at least make him happy, even if she was going to be miserable.

"I was just wondering if you would like to go out for dinner tonight," he said, showing his teeth as he smiled again. It made the scar on the left side of his face scrunch up. He claimed that it came from a fight when he was younger, but Bulma guessed that it was probably from some time when he tripped and fell on his face. There was just no way that he got into an actual fight. If he had, that scar would have been the only wound inflicted. It would have been the shortest and most pathetic fight in history.

"Well, I'm busy preparing for tomorrow. I don't know if I have the time right now."

"Oh, don't be shy, Bulma. We're getting married tomorrow. You'll have plenty of time to blow me off." He laughed, as if that wasn't what she was trying to do. "I'd like to take my fiancée out for dinner one last time, for the record."

"For the record?" Bulma asked, lifting an eyebrow, but when he didn't reply, she pursed her lips. "Let me get changed and brush my hair. I'll be right out, okay?"

"Bulma, you look fine. Let's just go. You look lovely. The clothes you have on suit you beautifully. And you're hair is beautiful, too. Come on. Let's go. I'm starving."

Bulma frowned, but nodded anyway. Her hair was an ugly shade of blue. It was far from being lovely. She hated her awful hair. She always had and she always would. And she knew that Yamcha thought so as well. Before they were set to be married, they would make fun of how different her hair was.

She stepped under the doorway of her large apartment and shut the door behind her. She didn't like how close Yamcha stayed to her as she locked her door. When she turned around, he was almost on top of her.

"And you smell beautiful, too," he purred, placing a hand on the wall behind her, but Bulma just coughed out a laugh and stepped past him.

"So, where are we going?" she asked, faking another smile, but avoiding eye contact. The last thing she felt like eating was pizza from the pizzeria down the street.

"To the only diner in the city, silly," he said, smirking and lightly touching his fingers to hers as they began to walk down the hall way, towards the door. "What better place for a couple getting married to eat together?"

When Bulma didn't take his hand and they stepped out onto the street, the sunset lighting up the city shades of blue and pink, he grabbed her hand and interlocked their fingers, swinging their arms gently as they walked along the streets to the diner.

"Did you want to go somewhere else?" Yamcha asked suddenly, after about a minute of walking in silence, Yamcha's sweaty hand making his grip on her slippery and wet. "We could go to the deli or something if you wanted to eat somewhere… less public."

"The diner's fine," Bulma shrugged, not sure what he was getting at. And he must have not cared that much, because he began walking again, pulling on her hand until they reached the diner and the sunset was at its most colorful, turning the sky into a rainbow in itself.

He released her hand and opened the door, and Bulma began walking towards it, but he must have forgotten chivalry, because he stepped inside and she had to catch the door for herself before she stepped inside.

The lighting was dim and it was dinnertime, so there were a lot of people. Yamcha spoke with the woman in the front of the diner, and she pulled out two menus, shot Yamcha a more-than-friendly smile, and led the two of them to their table.

The first thing Bulma noticed when she sat down was the two people in the corner booth of the restaurant. It was none other than Goku and Chichi. And as Yamcha made some comment at the waitress before she left, Bulma found herself staring, very impolitely, at her best friend and her fiancée. Goku was laughing at something Chichi had said, and she was looking at him with those big eyes of hers. She always looked that way at him, as if she was watching her own dreams come to life.

"Bulma?" Yamcha asked, and Bulma blinked a few times.

"What?"

"I asked what you were going to get to eat," he said, his tone a bit aggravated. Bulma looked down in disappointment. What a jerk she was being to him, and he was taking her out to dinner, nonetheless. Why couldn't she act like Chichi? Maybe then Yamcha would be happier around her tonight. The last thing she wanted to do was make him upset, or sorry that he asked her out to dinner.

"I think I'll have a salad," she said quickly.

"You didn't even look at the menu, Bulma."

"I've been here before. I know what's on it, and I've had the salads before, so I already know that I like them." She forced a small smile and tried to make her eyes look like Chichi's. She imagined watching Yamcha was like watching her dreams come to life, but as his face hardened, her eyes began to look like a reprimanded puppy's.

"You don't want to try anything new? This is a special night, you know. I'm taking you out for dinner, and it's the last time I can call you my fiancée, so I was thinking that you would at least think of it as a special day and try something new."

Bulma jumped and quickly opened her menu, making a show of going over her choices. After a few seconds passed by, she spoke, the lack of noise becoming unnerving. "Oh, wow. Butterflied chicken with mozzarella and roasted red peppers inside, coated with all these spices. This looks wonderful. You were right, Yamcha."

But he just sighed. "You know, if you didn't want to go out tonight, you should have just said so, Bulma. If I was interrupting you, or if you were tired, I don't know. Maybe you had a few things to do before tomorrow. But you should have just said so before walking all the way out here with me."

"Please don't think like that," Bulma said quickly. Hadn't that been almost her exact words to him before? "I'm enjoying this time with you. And even if I had things to do, I would have stopped them to go out with you tonight. And I was hungry anyway. You came at exactly the right time." She smiled at him, swiftly taking a cheating glance over at Chichi to make sure she was doing it right. Being in love looked easy enough. So why couldn't she manage it?

"Maybe we should just go. I can see that you don't want to be here with me."

"Yamcha, please!" she said, grabbing at his sleeve as he stood from his chair, waving over a waitress. It was the same woman that had escorted them to their table.

"Can I help you, Yamcha?" the woman asked, and Bulma wondered why the woman was lowering her voice like that, and how she knew his name. But then again, Bulma knew many people in the city because she had grown up with them.

"Yes, well, we just decided that we weren't as hungry as we originally thought we were, so our table is free for the next person."

"But I thought you had been reserving that table all day. Is something the matter? Anything I can help you with?"

Bulma's heart hammered like a drum. He had been reserving the table all day? What had she just done? Why did everything between them end up this way? Why—

"Bulma?" a voice called, and Bulma froze in fright, pleading voices in her head. "It _is_ you! Chichi, look. Bulma and Yamcha are here, too. Come say hello."

Bulma took a deep breath, forced another smile and turned around, coming face-to-face with Goku, in all his glory, and flawless Chichi bounding up to stand next to him, completing the picture of the perfect couple.

"You two on a date?" Chichi asked, winking at her and Yamcha and smiling big. Bulma felt her eyes sting as Goku wrapped his arm over Chichi's shoulders. "Goku!" Chichi laughed, shrugging him off and smiling up at him. He smiled back.

"We were just leaving, actually," Yamcha said, grabbing at Bulma's hand and pulling her back. She noticed the waitress's hand slide off of his shoulder as he turned around and he pulled her towards the door.

"Oh," Goku said, sounding confused, probably because of their sudden departure.

"I'll see you later, then, Bulma," Chichi called after them, and Bulma pictured her waving goodbye, so she raised her hand above the crowd and waved back before Yamcha pulled her out the door and onto the street. They walked back to her apartment complex in silence. It was dark by the end of the walk. When they arrived at her door, Bulma's head hanging low, she felt the need to say something.

"Yamcha, I'm sorry about tonight. I'm so sorry."

"Bulma, please stop. It wasn't your fault. It was just the atmosphere of that place, and that waitress. I got the feeling that we weren't wanted there, you know?"

"But Chichi and Goku were there. We could have sat with them."

"I've been reserving that table for us all day, Bulma," he said, raising his voice a bit. Bulma lowered her head again. "You know what, maybe leaving had a little bit to do with you. Like I said before, if you didn't want to go, you should have just said so when I asked you. You don't have to feel like you have to do everything for me, you know. Next time, you should just stay home, okay?"

Bulma looked up at him. "But, Yamcha. You insisted. I didn't want to make you upset, and I really didn't mind going out because I was hungry anyway."

"Please stop, Bulma. I just want to go home now. I have things to do for our wedding tomorrow." And then he turned on his heel and started walking towards to exit.

"I can't wait!" Bulma called after him, trying not to leave things between them on a bad note before tomorrow.

Yamcha turned back around and smirked, walking back over to her. "Neither can I, my love," he said, and then he was on top of her again, like the last time. His face was dangerously close to hers and their lips were almost touching. Bulma, without giving her actions much of a thought, turned her head off to the side and felt Yamcha's lips press against her cheek, where they didn't linger for a second.

Yamcha stood up straight and pushed his shoulders back. He scowled down at her and turned back to the exit. "I can't believe you," he murmured before he headed down the hallway and slammed the door behind him.


	5. Reconaissance

**Chapter Five: Reconnaissance**

Vegeta stomped over to his bedside and pulled out the metal suitcase from underneath with a growl. Why did another's incompetence always lead to him having to do more work? This was why he preferred working alone over working with others. Everyone else always got in the way. He should have told Frieza that an entire team was unnecessary and he was all that was required to complete this assignment. Even Ginyu was going to start pushing his buttons the wrong way. When that damned Hunter returned with his head hung as low as the floor, Vegeta was going to have _him_ taken to the torture rooms for his lack of competence.

He sighed as he put in the six-number combination for his metal box. They would come in handy once the operation commenced. If he managed to capture a single Angel, he could unquestionably find out what type of magic the others were using to conceal themselves from the Hunters. And then all he would have to do was hand over his captured to the other Hunters, and they would be able to handle a simple job such as the one that they had been assigned.

This was going to be fun. But first he had to wait for Ginyu to come back empty-handed. Then he would capture one. He would never admit it aloud, but he _was_ a bit nervous. After all, these weren't just hired guns he was in charge of. These were supposedly second in line for the title of the best, him being the first. That was solid proof that they weren't playing a game when they hunted. The Angels really were hiding, and it was probably by means of something he had never encountered before. This is where his unique skills would come in handy.

Vegeta opened the case when the metal lid popped up. He looked around for something simple. He didn't want to be carrying around a lot of weight if he was going to be searching through the woods throughout all of tomorrow. And weight was never a helpful thing when chasing after an Angel. They were known for being light on their feet, if anything.

He looked over a pair of silver handcuffs, his bow and his blue arrows. He chose the color blue for the weapon because it never looked dangerous. The Angels related blue to the sky, and how could the sky ever be dangerous to the innocent? It represented calmness and tranquility. But it was similarly a sign of inevitability. It also gave him a reputation as the Angel Hunter with blue arrows. If another Hunter ever saw one of the arrows, they would know who it once belonged to, and they would know that he had hunted in that area.

The bow was specifically made for him, designed for his exact weight and height. It was durable, could sustain a hit or two, but it was also agile, allowing him to be able to move freely without feeling like he had an extra burden along for the ride. When he used it, it felt like an extension of his body, another limb that he could use to perfection, as easily as he could put one foot in front of the other.

He swung the strap over his head and adjusted it on his right shoulder, making sure it fit as well as it did the last time he put it on. He then removed the bow from his back and placed it in an easy-access area in his suitcase. He then grabbed three arrows and put them all next to each other by the bow for later. He placed the handcuffs next to those. He then locked the metal box again and pushed it back under his black bedframe for later.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

Vegeta paced around his bedroom. It was getting dark, so he supposed that Ginyu would be hopelessly returning to beg for his forgiveness now. He snickered out loud at the image that came to his mind. Ginyu on all fours, his forehead touching the wooden floorboards, as he groveled at Vegeta's feet. Vegeta was the best, and Ginyu wasn't. It was as simple as that.

A simple bang from down the corridor gathered his attention and informed him that Ginyu was probably back at their camp. He smirked to himself and swaggered out of his room, shutting the door behind him and making his way down the thin corridor.

When he emerged in the large room at the front of the compound, he found that his suspicions had been correct. Ginyu leaned against a metal table, panting like he had just run twenty miles. His face was even more purple than usual and his exhaustion was a show of weakness that Vegeta was disgusted with.

"What is it, Ginyu? Were you chased by a deer?" Vegeta asked sarcastically. The large spiked club hanging from his belt didn't even have blood on it, so it didn't seem likely that Ginyu had been attacked by a wild animal. He seemed fit to defend himself, even against a bear or two.

A mace, in Vegeta's opinion, didn't seem like that handy of a tool when it came to hunting Angels, but he knew that everyone had their own personal style when it came to the hunt. He preferred arrows because they could take down a fleeing target, and he never missed. He knew that Burter and Jiece used swords and daggers, which was basically the same concept because of throwing knives, but he just couldn't understand why a club would be Ginyu's preferred choice of weaponry.

"I see you have no bite for your bark," Vegeta said scornfully. He then smirked and looked around. Every other Hunter was in the room with him. He locked eyes with each one of them before speaking. "Would anyone else like to take up Ginyu's side of this competition, or can I go show you all up now?" he asked mockingly.

"Those are arrogant words for just one man," a voice said, and Vegeta turned to find Recoome staring him down. "We've tried going out alone. We've tried going out in pairs. We've tried going out in trios and groups of four and five. What makes you think you're so special? Just because you were chosen to lead us, that doesn't mean that you are the best."

"Then what's the point of being in charge, Recoome? If I wasn't the best, then what would be stopping anyone else from being the leader?" There was no answer, but he heard a couple inaudible whispers. "Well? No answer?"

"So what you're saying is that there is no real reason that you're in charge?" Jiece asked, stepping forward a few paces to let everyone know that he was speaking. "You're saying that you're so confident that you're better than all of us. But you're also saying that if you aren't better than us, then there's no real reason that you should be the one to order us around. Is that it?—"

Vegeta took a quick step forward and grabbed Jiece by the neck. He tightened his muscles and lifted him so that his feet barely touched the ground. He then jerked him forward so their faces were inches apart. He could smell the fear coming off of him. "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying, you _fucking_ , _insolent_ —"

"Sir, _please_!" Burter called tentatively, and Vegeta glanced over at the man. Jiece was Burter's hunting partner, so he probably didn't want him to get injured over the position of command. Vegeta mentally sighed. He released Jiece, who hit the floor and threw himself into a coughing fit. Jiece was the last person he had to worry about. It was Ginyu and the meddlesome Recoome that wanted to be in command enough that Vegeta didn't doubt that they considered killing him in his sleep.

"So, if you don't bring back an Angel by midday tomorrow, then you should agree that it would be best for someone else to take command while we're here." Recoome stepped forward again, probably showing off how tall he was. Vegeta just laughed. He was a giraffe, and he was top-heavy. It probably made it difficult to hunt when you weren't all that agile, and when your lopsided weight made it easy to trip and fall over. "I take that as an agreement then?" he asked, frowning as Vegeta chuckled at him.

"Yes, you idiot. I'll accept your pointless challenge." He stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes. "But what do I get when I win? I can't have my position in command because I have that already… How about a week in the torture room for you and Ginyu?"

Recoome straightened his back and Ginyu stepped forward, threateningly glaring at Vegeta.

"I accept," Ginyu said, "But if you don't bring back an Angel by midday tomorrow, then not only will Recoome and I assume the leadership here, but _you_ will spend the next week in the torture room. And after that, you will spend your time cleaning up the blood you leave behind. And you will not hunt the entire time you are here… Agreed?"

"Whatever, you scumbags," Vegeta said. "I'll leave in two minutes, but I hope you start practicing your screams, because I'm going to want to hear them when I get back."

He turned on his heel and headed down the corridor to his room. He opened the door with more force than necessary, grabbed the metal box from under his bed, and put in the six-number combination. The locked clicked and he opened the lid. He grabbed a belt and the handcuffs and fastened them to the belt before tightening it around his waist. He added cable wire and string to the belt. He grabbed three blue arrows and placed them in his quiver. He then grabbed his bow and shut the metal box, sliding it back under his bed with a grunt. He stood and faced the door for a few seconds before walking back out into the corridor and shutting his door behind him.

He passed each one of the Hunters as he made his way out of the compound and into the woods. The sun was already setting, but he had no problem hunting in the dark. Angels were easier to catch when they were asleep.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

Bulma awoke with a start. She bolted upright in her bed and found herself covered in a shimmering layer of sweat. It was hot outside and her clothes were sticking to her skin. Not even the loud fan across the room was making it much better for her.

She couldn't handle this anymore. Not after Yamcha and their date last night. How could she marry him after that? She didn't know what had come over him after they found out they were to be married a couple years ago. He had changed so much since then. All she wanted was to have the old Yamcha back. She didn't care that he was a coward. She didn't care that he wasn't as selfless as Goku. But she wanted him to be her childhood friend again. She wanted the boy that she had played soccer with. She wanted the boy who had asked if she was feeling alright when she didn't get out of bed. Now he was all grown up, and he was so different. Bulma didn't know what had happened between him and the waitress the other day, but she didn't like it one bit. He was being deceitful.

It just wasn't fair to her. Why did her parents have to get careless? Why did they let themselves be taken away by the Hunters? Why did they leave her here to fend for herself all these years? She wished that they would come back. She wanted to tell them that Yamcha wasn't the man for her, and that they should call off the wedding.

She took a side glance at her clock. It was three in the morning. The sun wouldn't come up for another couple of hours. She could run away. If she left, she wouldn't have to marry Yamcha. She could find a place among the humans and live out the rest of her life with them in peace.

But what was she thinking? What would happen if she grew her wings unexpectedly, in the middle of a crowd of people when she was shopping? What would the humans think after ten years went by, and she didn't age a day? She could always stay on the move and stay hidden, but what kind of a life was that? She would rather live here, where she had her friends and even Yamcha, who would become her new family, than outside with the humans, who would never allow her to truly live in peace.

She screamed in frustration and grief, but cupped her hands over her mouth, hoping that no one else in the apartment complex had heard her. She involuntarily gasped, and then tears immediately began pouring down her face like waterfalls. She let her head fall into her hands as she cried. Maybe she was right for Yamcha. She was the only girl in Lillanthia without a family, and Yamcha wasn't someone that every parent wanted their child to marry. Maybe the losers belonged together. Maybe that was why they were paired at birth. So someone like Chichi wouldn't have to be with someone like Yamcha. Maybe they knew what the Angels were going to grow up to be when they were born. Maybe the elders and her parents knew that she was going to grow up to be a freak. What else could she be? She was the only living Angel with blue hair. Chichi's hair was black and it shined in the light of the sun. Bulma's other friend, Launch, had the most beautiful blonde curls that bounced when she walked. But Bulma had her straight, blue hair. It was an abnormality. There was no other explanation for it.

She glanced at her clock again. Only one minute had gone by.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't marry Yamcha. She would rather die. And at least, outside, away from Lillanthia, she might be able to find someone better. She knew she was being absurd, but she couldn't help daydreaming about the perfect man for her in that moment. She couldn't help but picture a dark and mysterious silhouette opening a door for her and showing her into a brightly lit diner, pulling out her chair for her and then sitting across from her with a warm smile. She imagined him calling her name, the sweet sound of his voice. She could almost feel a caress against her jaw as she snuggled with her pillow.

And before she knew what she was doing, she was standing, grabbing a brown leather sack from her closet and shoving some clothes inside. She grabbed some food from her cabinets and shoved them inside with her clothes, and then she zippered up the bag, swung the strap over her shoulders, and headed for the door, slipping on her shoes as she reached for the doorknob.

When she was out in the hallway, she cautiously glanced right and left, but she knew that no one would be awake at this time of the night.

Bulma had always been one for following the rules, but since no Angel ever had a desire to leave Lillanthia and the safety it ensured, there had never been a law put into place that forbade crossing the Outer Wall. So, since there was no rule against leaving, Bulma didn't see anything wrong with doing so if she so desired. But the thought of being caught still kept her on her toes. She didn't want to be stopped. All she wanted was to be free of this. She wanted to be free of this sheltered life. And she wanted to be free of Yamcha and her upcoming marriage in less than ten hours. She was to be married at two in the afternoon, but now, she didn't have to.

When she got to the streets, Bulma began to run, her feet pounding against the dirt and matching the heavy pounding of her racing heart. She knew that she would have to be careful of Hunters, but there were no Hunters in towns and cities where the humans lived together. And what were the chances of an Angel Hunter standing right outside the Outer Wall, right as she left its protective boundaries, especially at three in the morning? The chances were low, and she knew that now would be as good a time as any, and she didn't want to run away if she was already married to Yamcha. This was her last chance to free herself from that path, and she was taking it.

She accidentally let out a laugh as she ran, past the buildings and off the streets and into the woods. She finally stopped laughing when she was so far into the woods that she could no longer see the dim lights of Lillanthia through the trees and underbrush.

She paused to turn around. "Goodbye Chichi, Goku. Goodbye, my friends. Goodbye, Yamcha. Goodbye, elders. And goodbye, Lillanthia," she said with finality. She turned back around and squinted into the darkness. The tree in front of her had a white circle painted on it, which marked the end of the safety of the Outer Wall. One more step forward and she wouldn't be under the magic boundary's protective shield. She would be visible to anyone who passed by.

But she squinted to look farther into the darkness and found nothing. She didn't hear anything either, so she knew she had to be alone out here. She reached up to adjust the strap of her brown leather sack and jumped a little to pull her hair out from under it.

This was it. This was the final decision. One more step forward and she would no longer be able to find her home. The magic of the Outer Wall would affect her vision if she looked at it from the view of an outsider. But that was what she was now. She had no place in Lillanthia. This was her home, and her leaving it meant that she didn't belong here anymore.

And she wouldn't have had it any other way.


	6. The Capture of an Angel

**Chapter Six: The Capture of an Angel**

It was late. The moon was only a sliver of white, and it barely provided any source of lighting in the dense woodland. Tall, thick trees cast long, dark shadows across the forest floor. The sounds of chirping insects and high-pitched crickets singing in the air were the only noises, aside from the occasional breeze of wind, rustling the leaves on the trees and the bushes down below them.

Vegeta arrogantly stomped over a thorn bush, loudly crunching the dried leaves beneath his feet. He knew it probably wasn't in his best interest to make such a racket while he was hunting. Not to mention the fact that if he failed, he would have to spend some time in the torture chamber, and his reputation as the best Angel Hunter on the planet would be flushed down the drain, courtesy of Ginyu and that big oaf, Recoome.

He pulled his bow off of his back and removed a blue arrow from his quiver, holding them both in opposite hands as he stepped lightly, concluding that he had to find an Angel sooner than later, and his pride wasn't going to help him if all it did was make a lot of noise.

He ran his fingers lightly over his leather belt, reminding himself of his tools. He had his handcuffs, which he brought with him on every assignment, a good ten to fifteen yards of thick string, and three of four yards of cable wire. He also had his bow and blue arrows, but it was like saying that he brought his legs with him. He just wouldn't be a Hunter if he didn't have his bow and arrows.

Stepping over a patch of dried leaves, Vegeta squinted into the darkness. It was difficult to see two steps in front of him, but he knew that he could take an accurate shot at about two hundred feet, even in the night. He could snipe a beetle in pure daylight at over a mile's distance. He just hoped that two hundred feet would be enough when he encountered his prey.

Angels, as Vegeta had learned throughout his days as a huntsman, were quick and agile. They could run at the average human's sprinting pace for miles and not be winded. It was one of the key reasons he had chosen arrows as his weapon of choice. Once an Angel started running, you had to stop it in its tracks, or it would be long gone by the time you blinked. Vegeta was a fast runner, but his pride and arrogance wasn't going to lie to him. He could never match the speed of a frightened Angel in all his life.

So, one of the primary rules when hunting was to allow yourself to have the element of surprise. If the Angel didn't spot you, then it wouldn't flee, and it made it all the more easier to capture them. But in the darkness, in the middle of the night, sound and sight were a Hunter's enemy. Sight, because of the limits of the visible eye. Sound, because an Angel didn't always need to see a predator to know that someone or something was stalking them.

Vegeta silently sighed and leaned against a thick oak tree, nocking his first blue arrow and closing his eyes as he listened to the sounds of the forest. He knew the consequences of failing to find an Angel before midday tomorrow. He wondered how he thought he could pull it off. After all, the group of Hunters had been out here for nearly a week now, and no one even found a piece of evidence that they were even hunting in the right place. There hadn't been a sign of an Angel, and the Angel Hunters out here were the best of the best.

He remembered how Jiece and Burter said that they passed the same area of the woods multiple times as they had hunted. This could have two explanations. The first was that the two of them were making excuses. The second was that the Angels had found some way to protect themselves using magic of some kind. And Vegeta was inclined to believe the latter choice. But then, how would he be able to tell where the magic took its effect? It was too dark to track his own footsteps, and he couldn't wait until dawn, because then he would be out of precious time. He had to find a way to get an Angel now, but the more he thought about it, the more hopeless it all seemed. What a stupid idea it was to challenge Ginyu and Recoome in the dead of night!

But then, a sudden crackle made Vegeta freeze. It had come from behind him, behind the oak tree he was leaning against. He dared to turn his neck so that he could glance behind him to see what was there, but he just growled at what he found.

He pulled back the string and his first blue arrow and fired at the buck that stood not ten yards behind him, nailing it in the middle as he listened to the loud pops of both its lungs bursting in its chest. Vegeta mentally reprimanded himself as he walked over to it for forgetting about his convictions against making noise, but seeing that the only thing he could find was a stupid deer made him hot-tempered. He was getting aggravated and he knew that his hunting would take the repercussions of it if he didn't get himself under control.

Another crackle from behind him made Vegeta whip around in frustration. He turned in the same motion as he ripped his first blue arrow from the chest of the buck at his feet. He nocked it against the string on his poised bow and pointed it directly at the sound of the crackle. When he let the arrow fly, he listened to it whistle through the air and come to a stop with a loud thud. Vegeta snarled and walked in the direction of his arrow. The thump was the sound of it hitting a large tree. Whatever had made the noise must have been a squirrel or something small, like a baby owl or a bird, he presumed. If it had been something bigger, like another deer, he would have hit it for sure.

He found his arrow, as he had guessed, stuck in the dark brown bark of a tree trunk. He lowly growled as he ripped it from the tree and replaced it in his quiver. He didn't even bother setting it on his bow. There was nothing out here but trees and stupid animals. If anything, he would be able to spot an Angel during the day, but at this hour, he wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if they were all asleep, utilizing the protection of whatever magic they had at their disposal.

If he found one Angel, it would be a simple task to find the others. Since Angels were known to fear pain, his torture methods would easily make an Angel say what magic was being used in this woods. And maybe he could even force a captive to lead him straight to where the other Angels were hiding. The only problem was finding an Angel to capture, first. And with each second that passed, that looked more and more hopeless for him.

But he just couldn't go back to the encampment without an Angel. The second he arrived empty-handed, Ginyu and Recoome would shove him in the torture chamber, and since they were Hunters, there was no doubt in his mind that they were as skilled as he was in the art of pain. He could picture them sharpening their blades at that very moment, snickering as they thought about what they would do to him first.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but they were only redirected. _He_ should be the one sharpening his blades as he pondered how to make those two worms scream and beg for mercy. But instead, he found himself trying to find a way out of it all, like a coward. He could run, but then he'd never get paid for the job, and now he was out of an apartment, so that wouldn't do him any good. He could always tell Ginyu and Recoome that he found a way to detect the Angel's magic and he knew a way to get around it. But that would be lying, and they'd definitely make him back up his words with proof, which he didn't have. He could go back and fight against them, or even kill them, but that would only guarantee that no one else in the compound would follow his orders. And there was no certainty that the others wouldn't try and throw him in the torture chambers anyway.

So, Vegeta knew that if he failed tonight, he would have to endure the most humiliating moment of his life, even if it killed him to do it. He would have to allow them to drag him into that damp room and shackle his wrists to the ceiling as they took their time with his screams as his blood puddled on the floor at his dangling feet.

He just couldn't fail. It wasn't an option. He had to find an Angel, and his best bet was to find out a way to map out where the magic took its effect on him. He couldn't see very well, but he'd just have to make do. But as he began walking, another crackle came from behind him. He just slowly turned around and sighed.

"What is it, now?" he growled, partly to himself, and partly to the forest around him. But when he locked eyes with an aquamarine-haired girl, he just stood there. He lifted an eyebrow. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. What was a young woman like her doing out in the forest in the middle of the night? He noticed a brown leather sack swung over her right shoulder. Her eyes were wide, so he guessed that he had surprised her with his deep voice. She was probably expecting to find someone else out here almost as much as he was. "Going somewhere?" he asked, jabbing his chin out to question why she had a bag and was roaming the woods at what must have been around three in the morning.

But as soon as he took a step towards the mysterious girl with the strange aquamarine-colored hair, he saw her notice his bow and arrows, as well as the standard equipment on his belt. She whipped around and sprinted into the darkness, away from him.

And that was when it clicked. The way the young woman had moved, it had been so quick, so fluent. It had been beautiful… inhuman. It had been graceful… like an _Angel_. But if the girl was really an Angel, then where were her wings? Was this a premature Angel? He'd never caught a young Angel before.

Without a second to waste, Vegeta drew a blue arrow from his quiver and closed his eyes for only a moment, listening to the sound of the Angel's footsteps as she crashed through the underbrush. She wasn't being very subtle, but it was probably because she thought that the darkness was her ally in this situation. He nocked an arrow, stretched it back as far as the string would go and opened his eyes. He had a shot, but the guarantee that he wouldn't kill the Angel when he let the arrow go wasn't certain. But he had to make a choice. He knew he wouldn't get another opportunity like this one. It was now or never.

Vegeta steadied his hands and released the string, letting the arrow fly. He closed his eyes again and listened as it whistled through the air and, finally, hit something. But, it had sounded like the thud of an arrow hitting a tree and sticking there. He quickly opened his eyes and darted in the direction he had shot, blindly, into the dark of the night and the shadows of the tall trees above.

When he came to a halt, he let out a relieved breath. The Angel wasn't just alive, but it was conscious and there was no sign of an injury. He had just grazed the top of her shoulder, and her white shirt was pinned between a tree and the metal tip of his blue arrow. She stopped squirming when she heard him approaching. She let out a horrified scream.

" _Help_! Somebody _help me_! Somebody, _please_ —"

Vegeta backhanded her and watched as her head whipped to the right from the impact, and her aquamarine hair fell in front of her face as she dropped her head. Vegeta grabbed his handcuffs and pressed his knee into the middle of the Angel's back, forcing her to kneel down, her face almost touching the ground. It also ripped her shirt from the tip of the arrow in the tree.

"Give me your hands," he said, holding his out in front of her face. "Reach behind your back and give me your hands."

"Get away from me, you monster!" the Angel screamed, tucking her hands into her armpits and pressing them tightly against her as she cradled herself and curled into a ball. It was purely instinctive for a defense, but Vegeta wasn't in the mood. In fact, he was quite proud of himself. He could just picture the looks he was going to get from the other Hunters when he brought his catch back to the complex. Now, he began to think about the things he would do to the two imbeciles that challenged him, forgetting all about his worries from before. It was almost as if they never existed in the first place.

"Just do as I say and you'll be fine. Now, give me your hands."

Vegeta had no doubt that this Angel knew exactly what he was, and what he was trying to do. He always assumed that an Angel knew when it was being preyed upon, and when it had to face defeat, but he had never felt an Angel know him like this before. It was as if she knew him by person, as if she had done this with him before. It was an odd feeling, but he knew that something about this one was different than his other conquests… But it didn't matter. Every Angel was only a form of payment for him, after all…

The Angel shook her head violently and screamed again, but it was only a scream, not words. It was high-pitched enough to make Vegeta wince, but he pushed his knee harder against her back. She screamed again, but he just pushed harder, into the light fabric that creased under the force of the pressure. The Angel was terrified into silence, into submission. Her scream ceased.

" _Give me your hands_!" he shouted. If asking nicely wasn't going to give him results, then fear would certainly do the trick. But the Angel didn't move, almost as if she had this thought that if she ignored him, he would go away. Vegeta had had enough. He wasn't going to be ignored.

He pressed his knee down harder, earning himself another scream from the aquamarine-haired Angel, and leaned down to pry her left hand from beneath her right arm. She wasn't very strong, but when he had a firm grip, and he twisted her wrist in front of her so she would move how he wanted her to, she lifted her head up and bit down on his arm, hard. Vegeta growled and he felt blood trickle down his elbow, but the Angel was persistent and didn't remove her teeth from his flesh.

" _Goddamn it_!" he shouted. He brought his free hand down on top of her head and heard a squeal exit her mouth. He gripped her hair and twisted it into a big knot. He pulled as hard as he could, grunting with the force combined with the sharp pain in his forearm, until he felt the hairs ripping out of her scalp and her teeth were out of his arm.

The Angel screamed again, but he clamped his hand over her mouth as he twisted her wrist further, bringing it behind her back and applying the first handcuff. He noticed blood coming out of the top of her head, where the hairs had been torn out, and he reprimanded himself for wasting such a valuable red liquid. After all, it was the entire reason he was out here in the first place. It was now soaking into her hair, making it look purple and even more unnatural than it had before.

It didn't take much force to get the Angel's other hand and bring it behind her back, handcuffing it to the other one. All she was doing was whimpering.

Vegeta stood, pulling the Angel up with him by the metal handcuffs, threatening to break her shoulder blades if she didn't stand.

"Walk," he said, glancing over the bite wound on his right arm. It was still bleeding a bit, but it wasn't dangerous not to treat it right away. "That way." He lifted one hand to point in the direction of the compound where the other Hunters were waiting for him and his failure. Well, wouldn't they be surprised. He had to admit, though, that finding this premature Angel had been purely out of luck. He used no skill whatsoever, and he just happened to stumble upon her. He had been at the right place at the right time, and that was it.

The Angel didn't move, so Vegeta grabbed a handful of the back of her white shirt and pushed her forward with force that would have knocked her over, had he not been holding onto the handcuffs with his right hand to hold her upright. But the Angel still didn't move. She was resisting.

"Fine then," Vegeta lowly snarled. He slapped her across the face and pulled her unyielding form beside him as he headed for the compound. The last thing he needed was for the sun to come up and he not make it back before midday. He knew that they'd certainly call him out on it. They were bent on his failure, and he wouldn't give it to them. He was going to enjoy making Ginyu scream, and he wondered how much blood Recoome could lose before that brainless oaf passed out.

The Angel still refused to cooperate, so Vegeta pulled her hard on the handcuffs. Her refusal to walk caused her to stagger and she fell as Vegeta tugged, dragging her along behind him.

" _Stop_!" the Angel shouted, tears rolling down her face, but Vegeta didn't even consider it. " _Please_ , you're going to break my arms! Please, _stop_! Stop it, I'll walk! _I'll walk_!"

He stopped walking, but he'd be damned before he helped her stand. But the Angel managed to get to her feet pretty quickly. Vegeta lifted an eyebrow as he tightly gripped the handcuffs in one hand and raised the other to the Angel's face. He grabbed her by the chin and lifted her head, looking her over. Her face was stained with tears. He hadn't noticed that she had been crying all that much. A bit of blood was on her forehead and he reprimanded himself again for making her bleed. The left side of her face was already bruising, too, from where he'd hit her a couple times. Her eyes were closed, but he examined her anyway. Her eyebrows were straight and almost perfect, as if they'd been plucked for a special occasion. Her nose was perfectly sloped and her lips were red and full, the dark color probably from him striking her. There was a faint flush on her cheeks, probably from embarrassment because he was looking her over.

"Open your eyes," Vegeta commanded, but the Angel didn't respond. "You're going to listen to me, one way or the other," he added, "I'm only asking nicely to give you the opportunity to save yourself from some pain. Trust me, Angel, if I want to see your eyes, I'm going to see them whether you like it or not."

At that, the Angel opened her eyes, but they were narrowed at him in rage. Vegeta could feel her fear though, so her façade held nothing over him. But as he noticed how bright and blue her eyes were, she spat, into his face. Vegeta flinched and closed one eye, where he had been hit. He slowly wiped away the saliva from his face and looked at the Angel again.

"That wasn't very nice, now was it?" he asked, mockingly and sarcastic, but she spat at him again, and Vegeta flinched once more.

Without bothering to wipe it off, he snarled loudly and pushed on the Angel's back, walking forward and leading her ahead of him, until her face came in contact with a thick tree, her breasts pressed up against the rough bark and her feet just grazing the roots of the large maple. Vegeta forcefully pressed his body against hers and breathed hard, right next to her ear. He pushed his hips forward in warning and as a show of his dominance over her. He felt her stiffen at the feel of him against her backside and he smirked.

"Scream," he whispered, "Or I'll make you."

The Angel kept quiet, probably bent on doing the opposite of whatever he told her to do. What an arrogant little girl she was. It kind of reminded him of himself. But then again, if she was anything like him, she would have put up more of a fight.

Vegeta let go of the handcuffs and grabbed the Angel on both sides of her hips, pulling her closer to him. He heard a whine, but nothing more, so he used his right hand to grab the hairs that had already been pulled on and tugged a bit. The Angel cried, but he could hear her trying not to make a loud noise, lest he think it was a scream. He pulled on her hair until her head came back and pushed harder on her body with his as he used his other hand to turn her head towards him. She looked at him with hatred and panic in her eyes, but still no scream.

"There are those beautiful eyes of yours," Vegeta commented offhandedly, smirking and backing away from her, grabbing her handcuffs a split second before she tried to dart away. He pulled her back and pressed her against his side, pulling the handcuffs down hard enough so that she finally screamed from the pain in her shoulders. "This could all end if you'd just do as I say," Vegeta said to her, but in the next second, the Angel kicked back with her right foot, hitting Vegeta in the leg, below the knee, right above his ankle, and the force caused them both to fall over as the Angel lost her balance on her left leg.

Vegeta tried to ignore the pounding. Any harder and she could have cracked the bone. He bent over as he supported himself with both hands, shaking his head to focus his eyes. But before he knew it, the Angel was on her feet, and her foot hit him in the stomach, knocking him onto his side on a pile of dried leaves. Vegeta grunted, trying to reject the agony. He couldn't let the Angel get away. She was already on her feet. Once she started running, he wouldn't be able to catch her. Not in the darkness after being hit like that.

The Angels foot slammed into his stomach again and he coughed up saliva, but before she could pull her leg back, he grabbed her by the ankle and yanked it forward, as hard as he could. He listened to her hit the forest floor, and offhandedly noticed that the sky was lightening a bit.

He slinked forward and got on his hands and knees, hurrying to cover the Angel before she got another chance to stand and flee at speeds he couldn't compare with. He dropped himself when he was over her, and she yelped at the pain of her hands being sandwiched between the ground, both their weights, and the metal handcuffs. She kicked with her legs, but she was only wasting energy at that point.

Vegeta rolled off of her and quickly grabbed the handcuffs behind her back, standing and yanking her to her feet with him. He looked down at himself and snarled. He was stained with dirt, mud and leaves, and something that didn't smell too pleasant.

He couldn't take this anymore. This Angel was a pain in his ass, and there was another two miles that they had to walk to get back to the Hunters' base. He lifted his hand and balled a fist, coming down hard on the back of the Angel's head.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

The first thing they did was stare in shock at the sight before them. The second thing they did was nervously shift their weight from one foot to the other at the sight of a captured Angel, and the news that Vegeta had won the challenge. But the final thing that the Hunters did came three seconds after Vegeta walked through the doors.

Jiece and Burter risked their lives first and burst out laughing at the sight of him, covered in mud and leaves and his arm covered in dried blood, an obvious bite mark on his forearm. And the aquamarine-haired Angel slumped over his shoulder, also covered in mud and a bit of dried blood matting down her hair was enough to make the entire complex burst into laughter.

"Geez, Vegeta," Guldo said with a smirk, "What, did you rape her before you even got here?"

"Couldn't handle yourself so you had to knock her out?"

"Was she that much for you?"

"Everybody look out! Vegeta's caught himself a _premature_ Angel. Look at the pathetic thing. It doesn't even have its wings yet!"

At that comment, the room burst into laughter once more, but Vegeta just snarled, showing his white teeth to the other Hunters before stomping off to the torture chamber to lock the Angel up and leave her there until he was ready for her.

"How old do you think she is?" he heard someone ask as he walked away. The sound of his boots on the tile floor, covered in mud, sounded more like sloshing through a swamp. "She couldn't be over twenty years old, and look at what she did to _Vegeta_ …"

He stopped listening to them, prideful in the fact that none of those voices had been Ginyu or Recoome. He wondered where they were. Probably hiding, he presumed. They had to know that they'd lost the challenge by now, and they were surely shaking in their boots.


End file.
